Immortals of the Sky

By Colonel F. Izadseta

This fascinating memoir chronicles the experiences of Colonel F. Izadseta, a senior Iranian Air Force commander who spent many years serving in the pre-revolutionary Imperial Iranian Air Force, witnessing its buildup during the 1960s and 1970s, and its near destruction after the 1979 revolution. He tells of

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jul 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685156084

Book preview

Early Days

T

ehran is a large cosmopolitan city that lies high on the Iranian plateau, in the foothills of the majestic, snowcapped Alborz mountains. It sits at an elevation of nearly four thousand feet, and the towering mountains dominate its skyline. In 1940, it was still underdeveloped, with many dirt roads and little plumbing or electricity. The city had many quaint neighborhoods with simple homes and gardens and green spaces. It also had historical palaces, bazaars, and other markets. However, at this time it was also a tumultuous place with a rather uncertain future. The Shah of Iran at the time, Reza Shah the Great, had come to power fifteen years earlier and founded the Pahlavi dynasty. In doing so, he ended the reign of the Qajar dynasty, which had failed to modernize Iran and lost enormous territories to Russia in two poorly managed wars. Reza Shah united the country and led it on a path toward modernization, limiting the power of the clergy and establishing a strong central state based in the capital, Tehran. Over the past century, the British and Russians had intervened or even militarily invaded our country and were a serious foreign threat to our independence and security. They were not popular in Iran, and Reza Shah was certainly not inclined to ally with them. But World War II had broken out, and Nazi Germany was on the march, having conquered all of Europe, except Britain and the Soviet Union. Reza Shah declared neutrality during World War II, hoping it would spare Iran. But unfortunately, fate would not cooperate, and events unfolded differently.

In 1940, Hitler launched an all-out aerial assault on Britain by the Luftwaffe, the German Air Force. Its objective was to defeat the British Royal Air Force (RAF) and establish air superiority in preparation for Operation Sea Lion, the planned German invasion of Britain. The defeat of Britain would have solidified Hitler’s grip on all of Western Europe. The RAF held back the Nazi juggernaut over the skies of Britain against all odds and spared that country from a Nazi occupation. Hitler indefinitely postponed Operation Sea Lion. This was the first defeat for Nazi Germany. This aerial battle would forever be known as the Battle of Britain. It has been described as the first major battle in history fought almost entirely in the air. Indeed, airpower had played a most significant and unprecedented role in the defense of Britain and in that victory.

However, Britain was not out of the woods yet, as their victory in the sky had come at great cost. Nazi Germany still aimed to advance through the Caucasus down to Iran and Iraq and threaten Britain’s access to oil fields and important land routes to India. So, while Iran in 1940 seemed calm, there was a looming threat of the conflict between the great powers spilling into our country. It was not looking good. Ultimately in August 1941, British and Soviet forces invaded Iran to block a potential German advance into the area and secure supply routes from the Persian Gulf to the Soviet Union through Iranian rail and road links. Iran would become known as the Bridge of Victory, a back door through which the United States and Britain would supply their Soviet allies.

It was in these uncertain conditions and in that world that I was born in December 1940 in Tehran’s fourth district. It was commonly known as Park-e Shahr or City Park. We lived there until I was seven years old, and I effectively grew up under foreign occupation. As a young boy, I distinctly remember seeing British and Soviet troops remaining after World War II in tents and installations around the city. Our house was near the Bagh-e Shah or King’s Garden army base, which was at the end of a beautiful cobblestone boulevard. Life was simple and bare in those days. Drinking water would be delivered daily in yellow barrels by a wagon in various neighborhoods and distributed to us in buckets. It was referred to as Ab-e-Shah, or King’s water. Most of the roads in Tehran were unpaved—either cobblestone or dirt. We were eventually able to move to a nicer neighborhood farther north in the city, called Saltanat Abad/Shemiran, where we lived for a long time. I studied in the Bahram elementary school and later attended the Jam-e Gholhak upper school, from which I graduated in 1959.

Delivery of drinking water by wagon to residential houses in old Tehran (mid-1940s)

left: British soldiers on top of a Soviet tank during the occupation in World War II,

right: American and British railroad crews taking supplies for Russia in Iran

At that time, houses in our neighborhood didn’t have electricity. We used kerosene lamps and heaters to light and heat our homes. By this time, we were a family of eight—I had an older sister, two younger sisters, and two younger brothers. My father was employed in the Ministry of Agriculture and had been trained in agricultural machinery during Reza Shah’s time. When I entered high school, he retired from the ministry and bought a farm in Gorgan, near the Caspian Sea, and started farming. My brothers and I would help him on the farm in the summer months. He was one of the early adopters of mechanized agriculture in Iran. Prior to this time, farming was done primarily with the use of animals and traditional methods. The use of tractors and combines and other machines was rapidly being introduced. It was my father’s wish and hope that we would continue our studies in agriculture. But I was not very interested in the calm and quiet environment of a farm. The only thing I liked about working on the farm was driving the machinery! I was not sure yet what I wanted to do with my life, and I had yet to find my passion.

After graduating high school in Tehran, I went back for the summer to Gorgan to work on my father’s farm. I returned to Tehran to take a driving exam and passed. One day as I was driving my father’s jeep to pick up my license, I noticed on the way two of my friends standing at a bus stop. I stopped to greet them and asked if they would like a ride. I found out they were on their way to the air force academy and were looking to apply to flight school there. One of them was Javad Rajabian, and the other one was Keyvan Zandnia. They both lived in the same pleasant neighborhood of Shemiran. When I asked them about their plans, I started wondering if I could join them too. It turned out that since I was going to go get my driver’s license, I happened to have all the necessary documents with me. I decided to give it a try. We all went there together and signed up. But then something unexpected and surprising happened. On my way back home, I felt this exhilaration that was hard to explain. It felt like this was the path I was looking for but didn’t know about, and I had just found it by chance.

When I explained with excitement to my parents the events of that day and what I had done, they were very opposed. They were not convinced at all that this would last or that it would be a good path for me even if it did. Yet somehow, I knew deep down that this was for me. I had decided, and I realized there was no going back as I had discovered my dream and a path to it. This standoff with my parents continued for the next fifteen days, until it was time for a medical evaluation. I went with my friends, and it was very crowded, as roughly one hundred people had applied in that round. In the first set of tests, about half were turned away. Unfortunately, Kayvan was one of them; he did not pass the vision exam.

Me (left) and Javad Rajabian (right) in the early days

Javad and I passed and continued on to the next set of medical evaluations, which we successfully passed as well. One week later, we went to the next round of evaluations, which included intelligence and other tests, and passed all of them. Despite my acceptance in this rigorous process, my father was actively trying to convince me to change course and take the national entrance exam for universities to study agriculture. But I became more determined each step of the way. Javad and I started in the air force academy on the same day in 1960. We had now officially joined the Imperial Iranian Air Force (IIAF)!

The Air Force Academy—High in the Sky

Is Where I Belong

The official motto of the IIAF is Boland Aseman Jaygah-e-Man Ast or High in the Sky is Where I Belong. These became the words I lived by from that day forward. I started my training and was happier and more motivated with each day that passed. I was learning very rapidly and flew a few times on the North American T6 Harvard propeller trainer. I subsequently flew in the newly arrived Lockheed T-33 jet trainer. In both of these aircraft, we would train but not get to the point of flying solo. That stage would come later. Nonetheless, I couldn’t believe I was flying jets! I felt I had finally, indeed, found a home where I belonged—high in the sky.

Captain Jafar Marandi (left), my T-6 instructor pilot, and me (right)

My parents and I at the airport as I was leaving to the US for military pilot training

After one year, I was sent to the United States to continue my pilot training. I will never forget the feeling I had when I boarded the airliner to go to America. It was difficult to say goodbye to my family since we were very close. I always remember my mother’s expression as she prayed to God to take care of me and protect me as I continued flying.

In America, I encountered a completely new world, starkly contrasting with my old one. But despite all the difficulties and transitions, I felt full of passion and motivation for this new journey I had embarked on. I had chosen this path completely on my own. The dream was mine and no one else’s, and I was determined to follow and achieve it with all my heart. The new world was a novel and exciting place beyond anything I had dreamed of, and I fully embraced it. It was a thrilling and exhilarating feeling.

I was twenty years old when I arrived in America. I was an air cadet in a two-year program called undergraduate pilot training, or UPT. My program started at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. The training began with an intense three-month advanced course in the English language, with labs and resources that were state of the art for their time. I continued the rest of the course at Craig Air Force Base in Selma, Alabama. I was once again flying the Lockheed T-33 and then also the Cessna T-37, both jet trainers. The T-33 had tandem seating, whereas the T-37 had side-by-side seating. In addition to Americans, I met people from many countries. I had classmates from all over the United States, Thailand, South Vietnam, West Germany, Saudi Arabia, and other countries. I counted about five fellow Iranians in our class, two of whom had come from officer school into this program. In fact, American students would enter this program with a bachelor’s degree or some four-year program. Typical Iranian students, like myself, came in with only a high school diploma, but the selection process was rigorous.

Our instructors were all very experienced veteran US Air Force pilots who had high standards yet various styles of instruction. Some were more tense and strict and yelled a lot while others were more sociable and friendly and calm. But I felt they treated all of us fairly and equally. One of our instructors whom I particularly enjoyed working with was Major Semonez. He was generally calm and relaxed and deferential. During flight, he intervened later than others and allowed us more room to make our own mistakes and correct ourselves. He taught me very much, and his style influenced me quite a bit and resonated with me. I feel I took after him, and his approach and personality stayed a part of me even many years later.

Throughout all this time, I remember we had a nice social life, and our hosts had taken steps to make us feel welcome and familiarize us with American culture and society. There were volunteers who were acting as sponsors, taking us in and showing us around. Ours was a very nice lady named Mrs. Robinson. She would take us to social events and parties where the atmosphere was very inviting, inclusive, friendly, and respectful. I don’t remember anyone ever feeling unwelcome or feeling that their personal beliefs had come into question or discussion. If someone did not want to drink, for example, it was totally okay. We were not allowed to drive, so our sponsors took us everywhere together. We had many good memories, such as July 4th, Independence Day, festivities and others.

As cadets came in year-round, graduations were also held almost monthly. Each class had roughly a dozen graduates. I graduated in 1964 in what was called class 64E with the rank of Second Lieutenant. I was very proud. I was now officially a military pilot and an officer in the Imperial Iranian Air Force! We had a pleasant graduation ceremony. Some of us exchanged contact information and stayed in touch for years to come.

Cadet Izadseta in training in Craig Air Force Base T-37 Course in Selma, Alabama

From this point on, the graduates split up to pursue different paths. Some of us went back to Iran, but I was slated to go on to a more advanced combat course at the famous Fighter Weapons School in Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada. This is roughly the US Air Force equivalent to the US Navy’s Fighter Weapons School (popularly known as Top Gun), but is actually older and more in-depth. Nellis has traditionally been a center of excellence and advanced tactical training and exercises, such as the world-renowned Red Flag international competition, which started in the mid-1960s. It was and continues to be the home base of the US Air Force Thunderbirds display team. Some of my American classmates also followed the same course, as they had been chosen to continue on in the Tactical Air Command (TAC) of the US Air Force. At Nellis, I flew in the North American F-86 jet fighter, which had risen to fame a few years earlier in the Korean War. The F-86 was a single-seat fighter with no trainer version, so we typically started once again in a T-33 jet trainer to emulate the F-86 in training. We then continued on to fly solo in the F-86 with an instructor flying alongside us in another F-86 as a chase plane. There was a certain amount of pressure, because if anything went wrong, it was up to the student pilot to take control of the situation, albeit with guidance via radio by the instructor in another aircraft.

My graduating class in 1964 (I am first from the right in the dark dress uniform),

and my graduation portrait photo

At Nellis we also had a variety of experienced veteran fighter-pilot instructors. I remember Major Fenton was a squadron commander there, who had tremendous respect among all the students and other instructors. He was also a combat veteran. One of his legs was shorter than the other, and he walked with a cane. He would climb into his F-86, and there was a custom-built enclosure in the cockpit of his jet to securely store his cane. But despite his slight physical disability, I remember my American classmates and instructors saying how he flies like one son of a bitch. I could see why; he pushed all of us and our aircrafts to our limits, and we learned a lot. I for one was thankful for his instruction and training and the skill I acquired during my time there. This shaped me and became the foundation for my entire career as a fighter pilot.

Major Fenton was one of my instructors and squadron commanders at Nellis – posing here in a group photo. Notice his cane on the ground in front of him.

I successfully completed my course at Nellis in 1964, at which time I traveled back to Tehran. This was also an intense and positive experience for me. Even though I was returning to my homeland, I once again felt like I was entering a different world, as I had developed into a new person as well. But this time the different world was my old country that had moved forward, and I needed to adjust to it. Some things were the same, and I liked that. But there was also noticeable change in many other areas. When I arrived at the airport in Tehran, my whole family came to greet me. They took me home and had a big dinner party with many guests to welcome me. I had left home as a young cadet and had come back as an officer and jet pilot. I felt so important! I had grown into a man of my own and sometimes forgot that this was my parent’s house. I had my nice Winston cigarettes and Dunhill lighter and started smoking without thinking twice about it. Of course, this would have been unthinkable in my younger days before leaving home. My father noticed and gave me a bit of a hard time, but he also realized how much I had grown and changed. I could feel him recognizing and embracing this. It was wonderful to see my family again after being away for two years. This time I could see them and how proud and happy they were. It was a tearful, emotional, and warm homecoming for me.

Tehran in the 1960s (Ferdowsi Street)

Coming back to Iran made me also realize how much my homeland had changed in the short couple of years that I had been gone. Before I left, I had taken a trip to the city of Isfahan in a jeep that I borrowed from my father. The road was about 400 kilometers long and was unpaved, so I had to stay overnight in a pretty basic, simple place; the accommodations were slightly better than camping in the rough. Now that I was back, I asked my father if I could borrow the jeep again, and he said there was no need. The road had been paved and made into a nice motorway, so I bought myself a nice, new German car—a DKW—and drove down in comfort. I saw development and modernization everywhere I looked—in Tehran, Isfahan, and on the road through the countryside. It was an impressive thing to witness.

I came back from America a transformed young man to a rapidly changing country. It was nice to be back home.

Welcome Back to Iran, 2nd Tactical Fighter Base, Dezful

Shortly after I returned to Iran in 1964, I received orders to deploy to Dezful in the southwest of Iran in Khuzestan Province, over 600 kilometers from Tehran. Khuzestan is one of the most economically important parts of Iran. It held, and holds, most of the country’s oil reserves, as well as a huge refinery in Abadan and the strategic port of Khorramshahr giving access to the northern Persian Gulf. Much of Iran’s trade with the rest of the world, most notably oil and energy products, depended on this province. Dezful and Khuzestan would be my home for several years to come.

Dezful is an ancient city in a strategic location on the northern edge of Khuzestan Province. It provides the main connection between the province and the rest of the country through vital road, rail, and air links. For the most part, the province is geographically separated from the rest of Iran by mountainous terrain. This effectively makes Dezful a choke point that can cut off Khuzestan from the rest of the country. The city lies in a plain nearly at sea level in the foothills of the majestic snowcapped Zagros Mountains. The Dez River flows through it and is a central part of its life and culture. To its north and east are towering mountains. To its west is the Karkheh River, which also flows down from the Zagros. It has hot summers and moderate winters, but it can get very cold in the surrounding foothills and mountains. To its immediate south are green fields and fertile farmlands. Farther south, about 150 kilometers away, lies Ahvaz, the provincial capital. Even farther south, by about 300 kilometers, lies the Persian Gulf. The city has an ancient history dating at least as far back as the Elamite civilization, over 5,000 years ago, continuing on through the Persian empire founded around 2,500 years ago, and beyond. Ancient ruins can be found in and around Dezful, most notably the ancient Elamite and Persian capital of Susa to its south. In modern times, another very important nearby location has been Masjid Soleiman to its southeast. It is here that the Englishman William D’Arcy discovered oil in the Middle East for the first time in 1908. This was a game-changing historical event, as it began the era of the modern oil industry in the Middle